<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Easy (like sunday morning) by BoiTobio (jam_minimini)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29857887">Easy (like sunday morning)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jam_minimini/pseuds/BoiTobio'>BoiTobio (jam_minimini)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble, Fluff, M/M, Osaaka, that kind of fic that makes u feel all warm inside, this is the kind of relationship i want</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 00:22:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>965</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29857887</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jam_minimini/pseuds/BoiTobio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Loving Keiji is easy. It's the easiest thing in the world.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Akaashi Keiji/Miya Osamu</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Easy (like sunday morning)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>these are drabbles which were actually supposed to be submitted for an Osaaka zine; ALAS--i had too much homework and missed the only deadline i truly cared about</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>i.</p><p><br/>
Sundays are Keiji’s favorite days. The mornings are quiet, undisrupted. They wake to the light of the sun rather than the beeping of their alarm clock. They can press into each other’s warmth a little longer, and they don’t have to worry about timing in for work or flipping an OPEN sign. </p><p>Sundays are when Osamu lazily opens his eyes and Keiji is met with bleary irises in his favorite color. Sundays are when Osamu has time to pull him closer and wrap his arms around Keiji’s form, tossing their blanket so it covers them both. Sundays are when Keiji talks about his week, in a voice deeper and rougher than he’d rather present in public, and Osamu tells his own tales, with a voice so soft it tickles Keiji’s ears. Sundays are when they make late breakfast together, unrushed and comfortable, devoid of the stress that a weekday morning brings the working class. Sundays are when they spend the rest of the day on the couch, entangled in each other’s limbs, sometimes watching a movie, most of the time making out, making each other laugh, making the most of their time together, making love--</p><p>Sundays are Keiji’s favorite days. It’s a reprieve, a bit of solace in their hectic lives. It’s on this day that he and Osamu exist in the same space at the same time, their other halves restored, fitted into where they’re supposed to be, before Monday comes back around and forces Osamu to get up a little earlier, and makes Keiji work a little later. </p><p>ii.</p><p> </p><p><span>Keiji and Osamu have never quite hit society's standard for an interesting love story. It's no big deal--they've been called boring before; they're used to it. They aren't this so-called "power couple" nor did they have an outrageous story of how they met. If they were in a movie, they most definitely wouldn't be the star of the show. He wouldn't describe their relationship as something exciting or electric; Passionate</span> <span>isn't a good word for them either. </span></p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In fact, just getting to know Keiji was such a slow burn in itself, not even counting the falling-in-love part yet. There had been stages--starting small and growing slowly but surely. There was the impersonality of acquaintances--a simple nod and an occasional polite smile. Then there was the casualness of friends--an exchange of how are you's and lighthearted conversation. Then came the closeness of a deeper bond--a hand resting on the small of one's waist and laughter where they lean a little too close. Followed by the shyness of </span>
  <em>
    <span>could-be</span>
  </em>
  <span> lovers--glancing too long and looking away faster than lightning. All of it culminating into the comfort of what they have now, consisting of a shared laundry hamper and shameless passing of gas. There wasn't any tumultuous event that sped up their connection. There was no suspension bridge effect that gave them rose-tinted glasses. No, they inched closer, slowly, together, until there was no longer any distinction from where they began and ended.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu could understand why the others would chase for the thrill of a dramatic relationship. Hell, even </span>
  <em>
    <span>he </span>
  </em>
  <span>thought he needed something like that. Maybe they're all yearning for something to spice up their life, or an escape from the boring reality of their lives. Life gets repetitive. Maybe loving someone so drastically different from you would be a never-ending challenge, a constant surprise of discovering something new.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He and Keiji weren't anything like that. They're pretty similar--quiet unless spoken to, thoughtful, brimming with silent hunger--they get along precisely because they know each other well, memorized in mind, body and soul. There's nothing new anymore when it comes to Keiji. One might even say he knew Keiji more than he knew his twin. Loving Keiji isn't a challenge, nor a barrage of surprises. Loving Keiji is not a spectacle, nor a special event.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But loving Keiji is easy</span>
  <em>
    <span>.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It's the easiest thing in the world. It makes sense, like the laws of this world. There are seven colors in a rainbow. One plus one is two. Osamu loves Keiji. It's common knowledge, a fact, a truth of the universe. That's why it's so easily dismissed, like it's nothing of great importance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Loving Keiji is like the feeling of coming home after a day of work--or wearing socks over cold feet. They are a fireplace that burns well into the morning, a homemade meal. They aren't Jack and Rose, but they can be the old couple in embrace as the ship sinks. They haven't the brightest of sparks, but their embers blaze steadily, consistently, like a heartbeat. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And Keiji--</span>
  <em>
    <span>god, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Keiji. Keiji isn't always the kindest, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>he's always there</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Keiji may not outshine the sun or the moon or the stars, but he is the fragrance of flowers in spring, the sweetness of fruits in summer, the crunch of leaves in autumn and the warmth of a scarf in winter. Keiji isn't the most outspoken, but he's his favorite voice. Keiji is not the chorus, but he's Osamu's favorite part of the song. Keiji has not the daintiest hands, but his fingers slot against Osamu's like they've been made in the same mold. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Osamu realized he didn't want anything more when he felt the burn in his chest when Keiji's lips pressed softly against his. And when he hears the sound of Keiji's breathy laughs buried against his neck, he is reminded that yes, this is where he wants to be. And at night, when Keiji would fold his glasses and set them on the nightstand, when Osamu would stare a little longer than usual, when would Keiji whisper a soft, "Good night, Samu", he ascertains that this is already more than he'll ever need.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks for reading :&gt;&gt;</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>